


Time Makes It Harder

by agoodtuckering



Series: Carving A New Life [5]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, F/M, Heartache, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 04, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodtuckering/pseuds/agoodtuckering
Summary: This day had to eventually come, didn't it? Malcolm and Nicola bump into each other at a birthday function for Julius, at his home.
Relationships: Nicola Murray/Malcolm Tucker
Series: Carving A New Life [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470488
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	Time Makes It Harder

It took Nicola time to recover from everything that happened with Malcolm. All the _ifs, ands,_ and _buts._ All the _what ifs._ To her credit, though, she never showed any of it outwardly. 

More relaxed now, with a much better staff where she was working, she found that she made a _much better_ minister than ever before. She was able to _actually_ try and help people. She wanted to change people’s lives and for the better. She wanted to _do things._ Here, at least, she had the tools and the help to do so. The stuttering, fumbling, and cocking up came to an end. Confidence returned to her. People actually _liked_ her. She spent more time at home, more time with her family, and things _got better._

Things slowly got easier for her. There was still a loneliness that ate away at her at times. She wondered, from time to time, how Malcolm was getting on. She barely ever heard his name anymore, only occasionally when someone in the office was reminiscing. 

Was he just as lonely as her? The question nipped at her far too often. She dared not to think about it, nor question their — well, no, _his_ — decision to put an end to whatever had been going on between them. She hadn’t been able to decide on a single fucking thing for herself. It was all him, as always. He took control of everything in his life. Or, at least, he made it certainly looked like he did, with one minor — _major, really_ — blip with prison time. 

Things would be okay, she reminded herself. _They had to be._

It only got worse, though, as Ella and Katie began to make comments to her over holidays home from uni or over phone calls. “You should be back out there, mom, dating and all that,” Ella had said once over dinner. “You deserve to be happy. Find someone out there who’s right for you. Better than dad,” Katie had chimed in. “Someone who will be good for you. You’re too young and too hot to be all alone.” 

It made her heart sink every single fucking time. Her children were right. She did deserve someone, didn’t she? She deserved to be happy. And while every brain cell told her to stay away from Malcolm, she couldn’t help but find herself thinking of him. _Worrying_ about him. Constantly. 

After everything the world had put them through, didn’t they both deserve some happiness? They put each other through hell, and they had both come out of it alive. 

She thought of that conversation, their last one, and all that had almost happened between them. She thought of his admissions and the tone of his voice. _He was tired of fighting,_ he’d said. _He wanted to be happy._ He’d tried to tell her that he was in a much better place now with his life. 

Months passed this way. There was no change. Things at work only got better, though. Ella found herself a wonderful, sweet boyfriend. Nicola invited him to dinner and managed not to scare him away. They seemed so happy together. He was studying to be a doctor, no less.

The rest of the family was doing well. She and James even, despite all odds, managed to remain civil. They even said hellos and asked how the other was. All politeness and no toxicity. It was for the kids’ benefit, not their own. But that wee minor detail didn’t matter, now did it? 

Then she saw him again. She was leaving a radio station’s recording room. There he was, with wild eyes and that irritable demeanor. He was having a very animated conversation with two different men, both of whom she didn’t recognize. _Obviously working,_ she thought. _Probably without any sleep for a day or two. Living off of skinny lattes and satsumas._

She nearly managed to get away too, with her aids and an adviser, before he saw her. _No such luck._

He seemed dumbstruck for a moment. Then she noticed it. The _loneliness_ in his eyes. It was hard to unsee after she’d finally noticed. He was in his element, working and directing and telling everyone what they should and shouldn’t be doing tonight. _Conflict-resolution, indeed._

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her dead in her tracks, like a rabbit in the headlights. 

_“Nic’la?”_

She closed her eyes for a moment, her heart sinking in her chest. 

Carey Walsh, her PA and closest friend, noticed the change in her demeanor. “I’ll see you downstairs,” she said quietly. “We’ll wait for you. Take however long you need, okay?” 

Thankful for her PA and thankful for the hand squeeze she’d given her, she merely nodded her head. She mouthed a soft, _‘Thanks.’_

Turning back towards Malcolm, now stalking her way, she asked, “What is it?”

He made a face at that. She wondered what the fuck on earth that even meant. Before she could speak, he said, “Ye sounded good on the radio tonight.” She was floored. He was giving her _compliments_ now? “I’m here on business, with the station owners,” he added a moment or so later, when she didn’t speak.

She tried not to notice how good he looked — _really tried_ — but it was difficult. His hair was the tiniest bit longer now, a good look for him, and he was dressed in a sleek, black suit. He tucked his glasses away in his pocket and she noted how soft his hands looked. Funny because he was not a _soft_ man, not by any means, but maybe he’d _almost_ been. With her. For her. However one would put it. He could’ve been, for her.

Her throat suddenly felt tight. She forced herself to ask, “How’ve you been?” 

She pretended not to see the way he looked her over. “I’m just fine,” he lied. And oh, he lied so easily. But she knew better now. She’d gotten a glimpse of the Malcolm that lie inside and she would never be able to unsee it. Perhaps, given time, she might. 

“You?” 

His question jarred her from her thoughts. She started, coughing softly. “I’m alright,” she replied, easily as well. “You know, busy. Tired now, obviously. That radio show was a pain in the arse. I spent all night preparing for it. I’m glad I did, though. It was worth the work.”

He looked proud of her for a fleeting moment. She wasn’t quite sure how to pinpoint the way it made her feel, or where to begin. “Ye were fuckin’ good,” he agreed, eventually turning away to cast a glance towards the men he’d been in conversation with earlier. “I should be getting back, ae. Work to do. No rest for the fuckin’ wicked.” 

She couldn’t quite say what possessed her, but she reached out to him. Her hand brushed his before she thought better of it and recoiled. He stared at her in surprise, as if she’d grown another head, and opened his mouth. 

“What is it? … Look, I should be going.” 

His words were hesitant. His voice was suddenly rough and hiding everything that he felt inside. She knew better, though. She knew him too well. 

“Yeah, right,” she said, already beginning to apologize. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.” 

The next time she saw him, nearly four months later, it was for Julius Nicholson’s birthday do, for the big _five-o_. It was the dead of winter, cold and bitter and rainy. Yet there he was, looking smart in a suit and chatting with Julius. There was something hilarious about watching him speak. He had expressive eyebrows and facial expressions to match. He was animated. There was no malice between the two men now, it seemed. Not surprising, really, considering that Julius had been one of the only men to put in a good word for Malcolm at his trial. He’d done his best.

Despite how badly she’d wanted to pull away and leave, maybe run out of the house or make a superhero-worthy escape, she was stuck to the spot. There he was, and he had turned to catch her eyes the moment he saw her. 

Julius seemed to notice, eyebrows rising as he turned to say hello. “Nicola,” he called out, _genuinely_ smiling as if he was more pleased to see her than anyone else in this fucking place. It made her warm inside with fondness for the man. Now, years later, things _had_ changed for everyone. There were _a lot_ of people in this room that she hadn’t seen in years. It both surprised her and not. 

“Hello, old man,” she teased, coming over to give Julius a light hug and a _happy birthday_ peck on his cheek. “Your house is gorgeous. I can tell you’ve just had some work done. I love it. How are things going on your end?” she asked, still aware of Malcolm’s gaze on her. 

He smiled proudly, replying, “Thank you, Nicola. I’m getting married in a few months’ time. We met on a cruise. She’s here, actually. I’ll introduce you both later on if I can snag her while she walks by. She can’t sit still for two minute. Her name is Catherine. I’m also… publishing some memoirs.” 

Nicola was listening intently, an earnest look on her features. “I couldn’t be happier for you. I really couldn’t. And I’ll have to remember to buy a few copies of your book when it comes out. I’m sure it’ll be an _interesting_ read.” 

“Yes, it will be.” Julius sobered for a moment, though, which surprised her. His head tilted and he said, quietly now, “He was wondering if you would be coming. Malcolm, I mean. He’s in a _mood_ tonight. Says it’s from work, but I think _we_ know better, don’t we?” He gave her a knowing look and she had the good grace to flush for a moment. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lied, even as her shoulders fell. “He looks happy enough, over there. I saw him talking to you when I came in.” 

Julius sipped at his sangria and sighed. “Yes,” he said in reply. “He _was_ smiling, and he seems happy, but I know him a lot better than he thinks. Like I said, he’s in a _mood_ tonight.” 

She heaved a great sigh and eventually told him, “Let me get a drink first. I need some liquid courage. Then I’ll head his way and say hello. How’s that?” 

Julius nodded his head, leading her towards the kitchen by a tender hand placed at her elbow. “Sounds good,” he said, low. “Let’s get you something to drink. Anything you like. Have you eaten yet today as well?” 

The time seemed to fly by. She ate, had a few drinks, made her way around the room to say hello to those she deemed worthy of a greeting. And then, finally, she stopped by Malcolm and Jamie. They were chatting pleasantly about Celtic FC. Well, pleasantly by their standards. Jamie was verbally eviscerating Malcolm and in return, Malcolm was poking holes in Motherwell’s manager and playfully needling Jamie. They obviously had mended their friendship over the years.

“Hello,” Nicola eventually said, mojito in hand. She felt good and ready to say hi. 

Jamie abruptly said, “I need another wee dram. Nice to see ye, Nicola. This older fucker talks about ye and I’ve never had a face to go with the name.” He stuck his hand out, adding, “Jamie MacDonald. Nice tae meet ye. Need anything? Oh, ye’ve got a drink, I see, ae. Be back shortly.” 

After a gentle handshake, leaving her a bit dizzy, she watched as Jamie wandered off. She then turned back to Malcolm, if only to find his eyes already on her. “Hi,” she said softly. “How are you doing?” 

He sipped at his whisky and chuckled, his eyes on the floor now as he spoke. “Fuckin’ fabulous, darlin’. Never been better. Ye?” 

This wasn’t going to be easy, she realized. Getting anything out of him wouldn’t be easy. Julius hadn’t been kidding at all. He _was_ in a mood tonight. To anyone else, it was nothing. But to her, she knew better. She could tell it was more than that. 

“I’m doing just fine, thank you,” she replied, hoping to convey her feelings through her eyes. She never had the chance, though, because he hadn’t looked up from the floor. It was as if he didn’t want to meet her eyes. 

She reached out for him, slowly placing a hand on his. She tugged him away, leading him out into the hallway. His eyes were ready to fucking pop right out of his skull, too. He was beyond fucking floored. Beyond shocked. 

For once in her life, she was taking the initiative. Not because she’d be pushed later, no. She was jumping. Of her own accord, by her own decision, making up her own mind. She tugged him out into the hallway and gave him an imploring look. 

_“What?”_ he asked, all at once defensive and uneasy.

“Is this how we’re going to have to speak with one another from now on? We’re going to randomly bump into each other once in a while? Will I see you in a year from now at a party for another mutual friend or at… fucking _Costa Coffee_ and ask how your sister is, or how the kids are doing? Will I see you in _Tesco_ and ask how work is fucking going? Why are we being this way?” 

She was standing too close, she realized. She was in his personal space, a finger pointed angrily towards him. She realized this only too late. His gaze, incredulous and steely, cut her to the very core now and her breaths halted.

 _“Why does that even matter?”_ he asked, waiting for her to move away. She stood her ground, however, and stayed planted right where she was. 

She squared her shoulders. “Malcolm, _you said_ you were tired of fighting the world. You said that you were in a much better place now. You wanted something for yourself. You were so close to… to having that something.”

He looked shocked. _"Was I?"_

They were talking around the subject, not quite addressing it. This was a dangerous game to play and she knew it. It was confusing, yes, and it was giving her a headache. But the liquor in her system just wouldn’t let her back down. She _couldn’t._

“I told you that I wanted something else,” she soldiered on courageously. “That I wanted to be brave and go for it. That I wanted something _just for me,_ for once. I think I deserve a chance at being happy. And I think you do too, more than you know."

His hand, perhaps trembling now, reached out and brushed hers. Her gaze fell to watch his long fingers as he spoke softly to her. "We really shouldn't fuckin' be doing this here," he said quietly. "Not here in Julius' home, standing in the hallway. This is a dangerous place. Half of fuckin' Whitehall is walking around. There are hacks and ex-hacks every-fuckin'-where… Could we no have found somewhere a little more discreet?"

She swallowed visibly. Then she agreed, "No, we really shouldn't be doing this here. But you don't let me get close anymore. I had to do this now. It’s like you avoid me now.”

And yet neither of them moved away. 

His hand felt so good wrapped around hers. So warm and _real._ His fingers were long and thin and his palm felt warm, almost comforting against her own. It made her feel protected, almost, as silly as it sounded. She felt safe with him. Which, really, was _fucking hilarious._ Even in her own head, it sounded _ludicrous._ He was Malcolm fucking Tucker, for Christ's sake.

"Malcolm," she started to say, "please just fucking get on with it already. Kiss me. We've waited long enough."

He began to draw her closer. He hummed softly, thoughtfully, and his hand dropped hers but only to touch her face. His touch left her scorched, as did his gaze. He caressed her cheek with a surprising tenderness and all breath ceased to come for the two of them. There was an undeniable hunger in his eyes. They were well on their way to kissing for the first time when she heard a noise behind them.

"Jesus Christ." _Perfect timing._ It was Julius. "I'm sorry, I'll just… Uh…"

He sneered. "I prefer Malcolm, but thank ye, Julius."

Then he drew away, leaving her inwardly groaning. It took everything in her not to yank him back towards her and snog the living daylights out of him. As it was, her hands found the lapels of his jacket before she dared to touch his chest. Then she mumbled, "No, no. Don't. Please." _Don't stop. Don't go. Don't move away._

Too late, though. He was already doing so. 

"Ae, see," he said quietly. "This is a bad place to do this." He was drawing away, leaving her standing there. With one last, "I'm sorry," he left. She simply stayed behind, practically shaking and trembling now. Everything inside of her felt like it was on fire. Her skin crawled. She was flustered and half past desperate. She had _ached_ for him for long enough.

That was it. That was the moment. The moment where she laid it all out bare and took control and told him how badly she wanted him. _That was it._ And nothing even happened.

Julius came over, a hand brushing her back. He looked her over with a concerned gaze, eyebrows drawn together. "I'm so sorry," he rushed to get out. "I… I ruined something, didn't I? I'm a fool. I wish I hadn't walked into the hall just then."

She gave him a watery smile, squeezing his arm. "It's okay," she said, suddenly zapped of all her energy and feeling as defeated as could be. She wanted to have a good cry. 

"Can I… Can I do anything, Nicola?"

She chuckled. "An enormous concoction of barbiturates, benzodiazepines, and alcohol sounds fantastic right now. But no, it's alright,” she told him, patting his arm gently to make _him_ feel better. It did little to ease the ache in her chest, though.

It really was fucking shite, wasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> I put these two through hell. Why am I like this? I'm almost sorry for it.


End file.
